


Weird Stuff with Dogs, but they're not actually yours

by SEABlRD



Series: Brief Encounters of the... Awkward kind...? [3]
Category: Undertale
Genre: Awkward meeting, Other, POV Second Person, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SEABlRD/pseuds/SEABlRD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your plans for the evening and weekend come up and you're stuck housesitting for your friend. Your friend, who has two troublemaking dogs.<br/>------<br/>Part 3 for 'Something about Cats and Boxers'! You have to read the other two parts for this one to make sense >v0</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weird Stuff with Dogs, but they're not actually yours

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for liking my fics \\( ;v; )/ you've made me more motivated to write in the first time in like. years lol  
> Based loosely on @SilverDragonMS' prompt!  
> minimal editing, as usual. tell me if you see any inconsistencies or mistakes! <3

You make it to your buddy’s house safely, despite running three red lights on nothing but a bicycle, with no helmet on. It’s not your fault you’re late, though. It’s your asshole cat’s fault, to absolutely nobody’s surprise.

You’re always impressed and a little bit jealous when you visit your friend’s house. Mostly because it’s an actual house and not a cheap two-room apartment, no offense to Robbie. Also, because your friend has enough money to have a  _ house _ to begin with. Damn rich people.

You park your bike in the driveway (meaning you step off it and let it fall on it’s side) and nearly trip over yourself to get to the front door. They open the door just as you go to knock.

“I’m so sorry for being late, Addi, I swear I would have made it here sooner if Jug didn’t steal the key to my bike lock.” You lean on the doorframe as you catch your breath. They laugh and wave you off.

“Don’t worry about it, man! I saw you coming up the street.” Addison reassures you, letting you in. “Do you never wear a helmet? You’re gonna get yourself killed one day, you know that?”

“Whatever. As long as I get places in one piece, I don’t have to worry about it.”

You step into the living room, removing your shoes and leaving them in the entrance. Two large, black dogs rush at you from behind the couch and you have to brace yourself against their onslaught of jumping and kisses.

Faust and Beauregard are their names. Strange, you know, but Addison always had a way with finding the most unusual names; almost as strange as your own naming abilities. Jug’s name is a case in point. 

Faust is a larger, solid black dog with a spot of white on his chest. Beauregard, on the other hand, has a black coat with a bit of gold mixed in, some white around his face and chest, and has the clearest blue eyes you’ve ever seen (hence his name).

“Hey there, guys! Happy to see me? Or can you just smell Jug on me?” you rub both of their heads affectionately. You’re not usually one for dogs, but you’ve known these guys for so long that they’ve grown on you. They bark and whine for your attention, crawling over themselves to get closer to you.

Addison taps your shoulder, pulling you away from their dogs for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay house-sitting for me for the weekend? I know you have Jug at your place that you need to take care of…”

“It’s fine. He always gets into the pantry anyway, so he’ll probably end up feeding himself.” you say as you stand, brushing some dog fur off your pants. “Besides, I know this is important for you. You go do your thing, man, and I’ll take care of everything around here for you!”

They give you a look of relief. After thanking you profusely and showing you where all the foodstuff is, they finally make it to their car and wave you goodbye. 

You turn toward the kitchen and head in to make yourself something to eat. Addison, always the health nut, has some of the best food you could get your hands on at the market, so you might as well take advantage of that sustainable living while you’re here. There’s a bunch of vegetables in the fridge, but no meat. You open the freezer and,  _ nice _ , there’s some frozen edamame in there. You take everything out and pull a wok out of the cupboards to make yourself some stir-fry.

Faust is running around the house doing whatever dogs do as you finish up your stir-fry. Beauregard sits beside you quietly, watching the stove as you take the wok off the hot element. The poor thing thinks it’s for him. You pet his head and tell him ‘no’ and it almost breaks your heart when his startlingly blue eyes turn up to you with the most crestfallen look you’ve ever seen on a dog. 

To make up for it, you put a bit extra food in his bowl when it comes feeding time. Faust tries to take advantage, the little devil, but Beau manages to fend him off long enough to finish his share. 

The rest of the evening passes by remarkably uneventful. You bring the dogs out for a walk and they give you a bit of trouble, but you manage to calm them down enough to continue walking. It’s dark out by the time you’re back at Addison’s house, and you let the two dogs play in the back yard a bit before calling it a day.

Faust and Beau both have their own beds, which Addison makes them sleep on, but you let them climb up onto your bed in the guest room. The bed itself is wide enough to accommodate all three of you, anyway, and the sheets are so soft. The dogs curl themselves up by your sides and you lie face-down in the pillows. They shift around and scratch themselves for a while, but you stop paying attention as you slip into unconsciousness.

\----------------

Why do you always assume things will go well? You wonder this as you trek through the park in search of your friend’s dogs. You thought that taking them for a walk earlier in the day, right after breakfast actually, would be beneficial so that you could avoid the summer heat and they could expend their energy and be more relaxed later on. How wrong you were.

“Faust!” you yell, cupping your hands around your mouth. A couple of joggers nearby slow down to look at you. You give them a baleful look in exchange. It’s none of their business if you’re calling for an 18th century demon-dealing jerkwad or not. You continue your search. 

“Faust?! Beauregard!” you check under some bushes in hopes that maybe the calmer dog had hidden himself somewhere, but you get no such luck. 

You really want to stay on the path, but somehow you get the impression that you’ll have a better chance of finding them if you cut across the grass and wooded areas. You internally curse your weak grip as you head across the park.

A faint barking from your left catches your attention. Could it be? You head in that direction, calling the dogs’ names again.

Faust bounds up to you with a large white thing in his mouth. Did he find a stick? Someone to play with? You’ll have to return it to whoever owns it, then. Beauregard follows him closely, looking much less smug about their find than his brother. 

You reach for the toy in Faust’s mouth when you stop cold. It’s shaped like a bone, which you wouldn’t mind since most dog toys are bone-shaped anyway, but this one has a remarkably familiar blue sheen to it where it would connect to a joint. Oh no. Oh no, no no no, that’s not good at all.

“Faust, drop it.” You command, giving the dog a stern look. He shakes his head, growling around the bone. You pale a bit at the thought of him doing any damage to it. “Bad dog! Drop the bone!”

You manage to wrestle the bone out of Faust’s mouth, despite his vocal protests, and grab both leashes back into your hands. You wipe the palms of your hands on your shorts so that the leashes won’t escape you a second time. 

“You’re gonna take me to wherever you found this, got it?” you glare at the two of them. Beauregard has the decency to look ashamed. “Go find it, boys. Go!”

Faust jerks you forward, hopefully in the direction of the poor bastard that lost his bone. You’re not really looking forward to this encounter, but it’s a necessary sacrifice for the greater good. 

Faust and Beau bark as they lead you to a hot dog stand, getting more excited as you approach it. You almost lose your grip on their leashes again, but you manage to hold onto them for long enough to tie them to a nearby bike rack. You give them the universal motion for ‘stay’ and then take a few tentative steps toward the stand.

“S- Sans?” you call, hesitant. What if it’s not him? You don’t know how many skeleton monsters there are. Would it be rude to assume that it’s Sans? “You there?”

“_____?” you’re filled with both relief and dread when Sans’ familiar voice floats out from behind the counter. “Oh man, please tell me you have good news.”

“I’d say ‘no’, but I think I’d be pulling your leg.” You reply, looking down at the bone in your hand. You hope it’s a femur, or else that joke would be irrelevant.

Sans laughs really hard from where he is, probably on the ground behind the cart. “Nice one buddy,” he praises, and you internally gloat a bit. “But, uh, do you really have it? I’m kinda in a bad position right now.”

“Oh my god, does it hurt!?” you rush around the cart to assess the damage. Sans is there, indeed on the ground, with his disconnected tibia and fibula in one hand and propping himself with the other. You stare for a few seconds until he clears his throat (how does he keep doing this), and then you hand him his stolen femur. 

“Nah, it doesn’t hurt. It’s more like an elastic, really, like a really long stretch.” he explains, sticking the loose bone up the leg of his shorts and back into its proper socket. The tibia and fibula follow next and he rolls his leg a bit, presumably to get the feeling of motion back into it. He stands, testing his weight on his newly reconnected limb.

“But if it’s like an elastic, won’t it disconnect at some point?” you ask, bending down slightly to observe the leg. There’s a few millimetres of space between each bone, which are filled with a transparent light blue substance. His magic, maybe?

Sans shakes his head. “If it goes too far out of the range of my magic it’ll just dissolve and become neutral magic that’ll come back to me, and I’ll remake a new bone out of it.”

Huh. You guess that kind of makes sense. “So I guess it doesn’t exactly work that way for other monsters, since they don’t all have detachable limbs, right?” 

“Actually,” he rubs the back of his neck. His vertebrae? “Some other monsters can come apart into segments too, but they’re a bit more… I guess ‘physical’ would be a good word to describe them. So it actually does hurt them a bit more than it would for me and Paps.”

You nod your head in understanding even if you don’t really get it. Unsure of what else to say, you gesture to the hotdog cart beside you.

“So is it a trend with skeletons to work in a food cart in the park, or is it just you and Papyrus?”

“Considering  _ no body _ else I know is a skeleton, I’ll have to go with ‘it’s just us two’.” Sans shrugs, winking at you. It takes a second for you to process the joke. 

When you finally get it you gasp in offense and punch his arm. “That was terrible! Don’t ever speak to me again.” 

Sans chuckles and shrugs at your reaction, and you narrow your eyes at him. “If you didn’t want to hear any of my fantastic jokes, you shouldn’t have come here.” he says. 

“You’ve got a point. I shouldn’t have helped you out at all today, I already have my ‘good person’ quota filled for the weekend.” you nod, faking a pensive look.

“Aw, but if you didn’t come here to bring me my bone I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on!”

“That’s it, I didn’t come here for this today.” you turn around and begin walking away, only barely remembering that Faust and Beau are still tied up to the bike rack. You untie them and continue on your dramatic exit.

“No, wait _____, come back!” Sans cries dramatically, doing a funny little jog-walk to catch up with you. He falls into step beside you, leaning over a bit to see by the look on your face if you’re serious about ditching him or not.

You manage to school your face into the most neutral expression you can manage. You keep waking, and Sans’ eye lights flick between facing forward and your face a few times, still unsure if you’re joking or not.

“So, uh, fancy seeing you here?” he tries, shrugging his shoulders a bit. You bite the inside of your lip, barely noticeable. He keeps looking around, like he’s looking for something to talk about. “You, um. I didn’t know you had dogs, too.”

“They’re my friend’s.” you reply, barely stopping yourself from breaking into a huge grin at his blushy, hesitant expression. If you don’t stop yourself sometime soon, you might actually end up asking him out. Accidentally, of course. He has no reason to agree, anyway.

“Oh? That’s cool.” Sans’ permanent grin grows a bit awkward, and you sigh at him.

“Their names are Faust and Beauregard,” you tell him. The dogs turn around to look at you when you say their names, tails wagging. “They’re some kind of border collie, golden retriever mix.”

Sans nods, seeming pleased that you were back from your temporary silent-treatment spell. “Interesting names,” he remarks. “Did you teach them how to steal? Because…”

You almost give yourself whiplash turning around to face him. “Excuse you? Just because Jug is an asshole does  _ not _ mean that every animal I come into contact with is also an asshole!” you protest. “And another thing, I didn’t  _ teach _ Jug to be a little shit, he does that well enough all on his own.”

“Alright, alright, if you say so.” Sans puts his hands up in surrender and you rein in your wrath. 

You keep walking, not really focusing too much on each other. Faust keeps stopping at every available tree along the path and you have to keep tugging his leash to get him to keep moving. Sans puts his hands in his pockets, slouching a bit. You shake your head disapprovingly.

“You shouldn’t be all hunched up like that, it’s bad for your spine.” you inform him, and he looks at you strangely.

“You’re concerned for my posture or something?” he asks, raising an eyebrow… bone… You know what, you’re going to stop wondering about this weird body stuff with him. “I’m flattered you care so much.”

“Nah, I just got your back.” you look at him out of the corner of your eye with a smug look. 

He blinks a few times and tilts his head to the side as though he hadn’t heard you right the first time. You know he did. He erupts into laughter and has to lean on you to prevent from falling over.

“You’re a hypocrite, you know that?” he wheezes, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. “_____, I- damn, hang on, that was too good-”

You let him laugh out out, pushing gently against him where he’s leaning on your shoulder. Faust and Beau seem pleased with this outcome and press against your and Sans’ legs, looking to get in on this happy-fest. You bend town and scratch their heads, making them press into your hands.

You wait until Sans finally stops laughing so you can continue on your walk.

“Shouldn’t you get back to your hot dog cart?”

He shrugs. “It’s fine. I’m on break right now, anyway.”

“How often do you have breaks?” you ask, suddenly curious. “I could come meet you here and we can go for walks and stuff.”

There’s no reply for a good minute and you have to turn around to see if Sans is still following you or not. His eyes are wide and his eye lights are focused on you.

“You’d want to come hang out with me?” he asks after his stunned silence. You shrug.

“Why not? You’re cool to be around, and your humor is great.” And you’re cute as hell, you almost add, but you stop yourself. Sans eyes widen even more, if that’s possible, and he looks away bashfully. His cheeks are stained bright blue, and he flounders a bit for what to say next.

You decide to save him the embarrassment of replying. “Besides, Jug likes you. Or at least your boxers.” You continue, dragging his attention back to you. “And I haven’t walked him in a long time, so he’s getting quite fat. We should walk him in the mornings like this.”

Sans’ expression goes from flustered to confused really fast. 

“You have to walk your cat? Don’t cats hate walks?” he asks. 

“Not Jug. Haven’t you seen him? He’s, like, the size of a dog!” you exclaim, thinking of the furry thief in question. “Besides, savannah cats usually like walks. And water, strangely enough.”

“What’s a savannah cat?” oh boy, how do you explain that to someone who’s never been on the surface before?

“Uh, Savannah cats are a mix between one of these african wild cats called servals and a regular housecat.” you explain, gesticulating with your free hand. Beauregard’s attention is caught by some people nearby playing frisbee. “Wild servals are about hip-height on me, but breeding them down and domesticating them makes them a bit smaller, and more legal to own. Jug is half savannah cat, really, since his mom Frog was a regular housecat. His dad, though, was this gorgeous second generation savannah cat.”

“What does second generation mean?” Sans inquires, clearly intrigued by this new species.

“First generation cats are bred directly from a wild serval and either a housecat or a savannah cat. Second generation cats are bred from those first generations, and have more watered-down serval DNA.” you inform him. He rubs his chin, looking deep in thought. You wonder briefly (ha) if genetics work the same for monsters. 

“So, that makes Jug a third generation?” 

You snap your fingers and make a finger gun at Sans. “You got it, buddy!” Sans looks proud for having figured that out on his own, beaming at you with an accomplished look on his face. Oh no, that’s too cute. 

“That’s really cool!” He chuckles, putting his hands back in his pockets. Faust sniffs his hoodie, looking for treats. “Genetics and biology were never really my thing, that’s more up my other friend’s ally.”

You shrug. “Well, you got it pretty fast there. It’s not a really hard concept, anyway, but some people always get it mixed up for some reason.”

Sans nods. “You’ll have to take him for a walk with me, sometime, then.” he concludes. “Also, I saw Jug walking around in the lobby today. Is he allowed to do that?”

“Yeah, as long as he isn’t terrorizing people he’s fine. Robbie loves him, anyway.”

“Why would he be terrorizing people?”

You shake your head. “Most people aren’t used to seeing cats as big as Jug, so they’re scared that he’s some kind of wild animal or dangerous or something.”

“How big are cats usually? He seems pretty normal-sized to me.” Sans is confused again, and you pat his shoulder reassuringly.

“Cats are usually around ten inches or so, maybe a bit bigger or smaller, depending on what breed you have.” You feel like you’ve done a lot of explaining today. “Savannah cats are naturally much bigger, but Jug is just big for a cat of his generation. He’s a little under seventeen inches tall.”

Sans winces at the explanation. “Jeez, no wonder people get scared of him.”

You laugh at that. 

The two of you continue chatting about cats and other animals, mostly having you explain and Sans making comments about them. You let Faust and Beau run around in an open area for a bit, tossing stick after stick for them to chase. The day is warming up as the sun climbs higher, and you find yourself sweating a little bit. Sans notices, and urges you to head back inside before you burn up.

He leads you back to his hot dog cart, where you part ways. Faust in particular seems sad to be leaving.

“I’ll see you around, then, Sans.” you say, waving. “I’m not home over the weekend, so if you see Jug just give him a pat or something, okay?”

“Will do.” Sans replies, grin widening. He doesn’t take his hands out of his pockets, but you don’t mind. You wave one last time before turning back toward Addison’s house.

Beauregard stays beside you as you walk, but Faust pulls at his leash. He whines and paces around you, looking back to where Sans’ cart is anxiously.

“No way, buddy, you did a bad thing.” you scold him, tapping the space between his eyes lightly. “You don’t go around stealing people’s stuff, much less their legs!”

Faust gives you a big, goofy dog smile and continues pacing around you. Beau makes a dejected ‘boof’ sound and glares at Faust accusingly. The bigger dog remains oblivious to his sibling’s look and enthusiastically strains the end of his leash.

By the time you make it back to Addison’s house you’ve worked up a sweat, both dogs causing you enough trouble to exhaust you for the day. You take their collars and leashes off once you have the door safely closed, and they both rocket into the house. You sigh, trudging toward the living room and flopping down onto the couch.

The air conditioning is significantly better than the one in your apartment, and you’re very grateful for that at the moment. You shift so that you can face the cool breeze coming out of the machine, turning on the TV and settling into the plush cushions. 

Faust pads up to you moments later, holding something in his mouth. You squint at it, not really feeling up to play with him, but the familiar color and pattern are what kick you into motion.

“What the- where the hell did you get that??!” you demand, grabbing Sans’ boxers out of the dog’s mouth. Your face is hot enough to rival the sun as you un-scrunch the garment and hold it out of Faust’s reach. You must have shoved them in with your other clothes when you were packing, and he’d gone through your backpack and snatched them. 

You mutter angrily the whole way to the laundry room, internally vowing to return these things as soon as you can, before they can bring you any more grief.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, again! If you have any prompts or ideas for continuations or new oneshots, you can drop them [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6465400/chapters/14817817) or in my [Tumblr inbox](http://summerbxy.tumblr.com/ask)!
> 
> here are some images of [Faust](https://dogsofsf.com/archives/3049/cimg3361), [Beauregard](http://gamesforgirls.ninja/collie-golden-retriever-husky-mix/), and [Jug](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/514958538617977719/)


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